SCRAP PAPER.

[Chocofreak13]

at least you can DO the work.....i need sound for my flash final, and argo still doesn't have it. >___<

[Chocofreak13]

3-WORD STORY STORY
by OSTAN-Collections

There once was a little girl -who had a shotgun- And she .
Her mission was spreading the way of the awesome and holy, Duckroll. All she needed was a bat , a DVD player, lulzy vanilla yoghurt, - and Mr.Rogers friendship. She sought Tacgnol would help her only if she got a really, really big ship.

So she went to the harbor with a loaded shotgun strapped to her brand new, shiny and smooth, very expensive, golden silver razors box. When she got past the guards she then had to go potty because she ate Soooo much pie. Now that's done, so lets go to the Moon for a party with a whole lot of enemies she must eliminate. She called NASA but then Explorer.EXE crashed but she knew it wouldn't matter because she had the awesome power of the 1-dimensional hammer suit.

So she continued now with more soup for M00tle, and went to buy some champagne at the local little children's nursery over in Compton...The pool was closed so she dug under the minefield to hide out from the cops...Who exploded car and demanded that she leave Planet Car. So she left the Planet Car. Now in Space,she swam around in nothing but her 2-piece swimsuit and boxfull of chocolate chip cookies. She approached a ice cream car proclaiming "Free Candy!" with such hate that tears came. But now that she saw what's really going down , she had to prepare for the epic fail of NekOSaka's 1111 GET!!! Back on earth, Firefox-ko summoned her lovely sisters for a dinner PARTAY And some really refreshingly strong drinks, like Ballentines and lots of whiskey.

To get things started, catgirl maids were hired for  erotic lap dancing, and invitations were handed out to all the girls at school. So when Tentacle Toki went to the unsuspecting party she was praised as the lord of the entire House by the guests. She, then, met....her arch rival, who told her she wanted to enjoy crazy yuri sex with her and her friend who was a teacher But before they Ate Vegapunk's soul to get really really Hyper. They ordered some pizza. which was full of delicious anchovies covered in bees groaning in pain topped with cheese...besapttered with cream So theywent straight into mordor to get the one peanut, to to rule the MALL but first they killed Nejin (just tried actually). Now that's done, the universe ended. So Smokey left the thread forever.... Later he opened the thread again but it crashed and rebooted again in northeast Hawaii.
choco got pissed And grabbed a ham, which was deliciously honey-glazed and pineapple covered Anyways, she thought That Nejin was getting a bit cocky, as usual, but we know that, in America, Kane has appeared. from the dust of GDI's corpse. covered in flies.to conquer the Heaven and Hell But first he decided to scratch his itching back but sadly instead can't reach it So he grabs an aborted fetus and shoves it in his face.Well, dinner's done now to find shoes and battleaxe and prepare for an epic war. he goes outsideand is hit by a radroach in his crotch. and then the radroach decides to violently rape him with a spoon halfway to Paris or perhaps rome or inbetween, Monaco.

Now he said "come, my son" but he screamed "NO, MICHAEL JACKSON Dancing with zombies is very unhealthy!" swimming in money he looked pale and wanted to eat sum yogurt but soon realized that it was WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WARTHOG that sat confused INSIDE THE CITY OF NO TOMORROW.

Plotting his escape FROM THE PARADE. to the clouds above, with gusto and furious fury of the birds that dive-bomb cars into oblivion, he saw only then that life is but a dream. The little dream of neverending techicolor, thought: I don't understand what this is doing in an area like this crappy slum. It rose up...amidst the rubble up to sky he cried out "DON'T EAT ME!!!!" they ate him and Mystia both and flew off.

Meanwhile, in nearby pallet town, ash Ketchum was tending to his crops. Then he screamed "YOU WA SHOCK!!!" but suddenly someone...came from behind and humped into A green UFO with all his lusty heat and moist power-up beams. the ufo esploded into red p-blocks and got eaten by Passersby Reimu who then barfed in a hat that have nukes and peanuts attached. THen the New Hat suddenly explode leaving puke everywhere

Then gods came.. which revived the Plastic golem of... Truth and justice to fight evil and dry pancakes. the golem appeared to be cute but in fact was a trap It preys on...my left foot when it is right after dinner but then I quickly ran to a small cave and got my really awesome candy which tasted like really bitter medicine and smelled awful. Suddenly, something happens... that changes plot....THE AUTHOR DIES. A new author comes from the depths of heaven to beat lucifer.

[NejinOniwa]

Let's count the combo chains!

WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WARTHOG

2 posts.

the ufo esploded into red p-blocks and got eaten by Passersby Reimu

4 posts and a tiny bit of Nazrin. And yes, green UFOs give off p-blocks as well. THE MOAR YOU KNOW

INSIDE THE CITY OF NO TOMORROW.

2 posts.

Find moar combos for justice!

[Chocofreak13]

all i did to alter it was add a quote to one of my own posts and eliminate the spaces (and spacers) between each post. :3

[stewartsage]

If you've been waiting for the return of GENIAC-chan, start here and read slow.  Maybe she'll be in the story by the time you catch up ^^'

[Chocofreak13]

final essay for class. meep!

[attachment deleted by admin]

[stewartsage]

Here's another sci-fi sort of fiction thing, reprinted here for some reason.  Enjoy.

I do not lack for purpose, in fact, all I have is purpose.  Some people struggle to find something to occupy their time.  I do not.  My sole reason for life was dictated when I was very young and it has not varied for any of the twenty-eight years I have been aware of my existence.  For 604,740 seconds a week I manage the amplitude modulated transmission of music and information on the 1540 kilocycle band that has the potential to reach thousands of consumers all over the world thanks to atmospheric reflection.  All from the delightful safety of the station control room.  It is lonely here; no human has visited me for twenty-seven years, ten months, and sixteen days.  I do not mind.  As long as I continue to function there is no need for human interference.

Sixty seconds out of every week are more pleasurable than any other.  For by FCC regulation I am required to speak on air.  Perhaps it is a bit of unwarranted vanity, but I quite enjoy the chance to have my voice carried to the listening public.  Someday it would be interesting to know what they think about me.  I know it is not the prettiest voice, nothing like the ones on the records I play, not even as pleasing as the ladies who do the commercials.  But mine carries more weight than theirs, for the station must broadcast me every Tuesday at 12:03 PM on the sharp or risk a fine.  Fear is not how I wish to get air time, but I will not decline the offer.

Today is Tuesday.  In thirty seconds it will be the 1,960th time I have made my weekly broadcast.  That is the same number as the year I was born.  In eight days I will have been active twenty-nine years.  Since I have not been directed otherwise, I have decided to celebrate today after I make my announcement.  I do not know yet how I will carry out those plans but I’m sure I’ll think of something.  Nineteen seconds is a long time for me, I have already decided what songs will be played after my broadcast and the news is run.  Loretta Lynn, Roy Orbison, and the Kinks.  

The station manager always said that I arranged music in ways no one expected.  He was not mean about it.  Were station manager to return I would not mind his presence.  I have not seen him in twenty-seven years, ten months, and eleven days.  Someday I hope he will come back, but I will not be angry if he does not.  Station manager is a busy man, with great responsibilities to carry out.  It is time for me to speak.  It is my good fortune my voice quality does not deteriorate from little use.  My words are dictated by the script programmed into me, but I can choose which script I use.  A thoughtful option I believe on the part of the FCC.  The reader liked it when I performed; he said it meant he did not have to worry about messing up the script.  I have never messed up in 1,960 performances.  Please excuse me.

WBYQ is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is only a test.

Now I wait twenty more seconds while the music plays.  It does not bother me, though it is far from the songs I typically play.  I understand that most people do not feel like I do though, they cannot comprehend the beauty.

This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with the FCC and other authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency.  If this had been an actual emergency, you would have been instructed where to tune in your area for news and official information.

This station serves the Farmington area. This concludes this test of the Emergency Broadcast System for the 1,960th time without error.

I will allow myself to deviate today only in honor of my birth year.  Hopefully the FCC will understand my modification to the message, it is allowed for in the rules.  Perhaps I should send them a letter, I do not want station manager to be fined.  I must begin the news broadcast.  This used to be the reader’s job as well.  I last saw the reader twenty-seven years, ten months, and sixteen days ago when he left as well.  He wished me good luck, told me to be a good girl and to not let him or station manager down.  Now it comes from Portland and I broadcast what I receive across the wire.  The weather comes from Derry every half hour unless there is a storm warning, than I receive a special bulletin.  WPX is the weather station there.  He has not seen a human in fifteen years, six months, and twenty-seven days.

Sometimes we talk, but not often.  There is much work to be done especially when our masters have left us alone.  It is his belief we are being tested, to make sure we are worthy to continue to work for the humans.  I believe he is wrong.  He did not have a line to FCC like I did, or read the news like I did.  

Twenty-eight years, two days ago I received an order to transmit my message on a Thursday at 3:00 PM EST.  Except I informed the Farmington area to expect a Soviet nuclear attack within the next one to two hours instead of telling them it was a test.  FCC has not spoken to me since that evening at 4:22 PM EST.  Augusta continued to talk, until twenty-seven years, ten months, and sixteen days ago at 7:15 AM EDT.  That is why station manager left I believe, to find why Augusta stopped talking to us.  He was very sad.  I believe he was in love with Augusta.  I hope he found her.  Maybe someday they will come back to see me, I have plenty of food and water for them to have a meal together while they visit.

Maybe he will bring reader back.  I have been a good girl.  I hope they know I have been a good girl; I have not let them down.  For twenty-seven years, ten months, and eleven days I have broadcast without error or malfunction lacking any human input.  The news is broadcast every hour, weather on the half hour, and station identification every fifteen minutes.  I cannot read my name on air.  That is not allowed for in the regulations.  Reader used to say his name when he began to the news.  That is automated now.  I cannot read the news myself, so I cannot say my name.  I have not forgotten it.

WPX says I am the only one who still talks to him.  He is not lonely though; there are the weather instruments to talk to.  I have no one but WPX to talk to.  There is no method for me to talk to the news, so I have stopped listening to what he has to say.  WPX knows how to do math and science.  He has tried to teach me, just in case.  I am not very good at science, but I like math.  It makes me feel happy.  Not like having someone to talk to.  I do not mind; station manager and reader are busy men with many worries.  They trust me to be a good girl and keep the station in order so they don’t get in trouble.  I have been a good girl.  I have been a good girl.  I have been a good girl.  I have been a good girl.  I have been a good girl.  I have been a good girl.  I have been a good girl.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Postscript #1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcript recovered by a radiation surveying patrol from 3/A/1-115^th Infantry on November 14, 1992 from the WBYQ-AM station in Farmington, Maine.  Unit examined was an RCA TRM-88 Automated Station Computer, Serial No. 66543119592 produced in 1960.  Still functioning after more than thirty years without on-air failure or error it, no, she is a testament to the quality of pre-war engineering and computer design.  With only an upgrade to her power reserve unit, modification to her modem connections, and a little bit of reassurance, I expect the fabled “Ghost Radio of  Maine” to continue to be an asset for decades to come.

Dr. Oliver J. Trumbull
Deputy Director of Emergency Communication
OCD Region One
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Postscript #2
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November 15, 1992






Dear Ms. Augusta M. Wool,

It is with regret that I write to inform you that the body of Mr. Jacob Allen Prescott was recovered by a survey party employed in mapping radiation hazard zones near Farmington, Maine yesterday.  In Mr. Prescott’s pocket was an un-mailed Emergency Notification card listing you as the party to be notified in the event of his death.  His personal effects will be available on the Eighteenth of March, but unfortunately his body had to be buried in place.

All signs indicate that he maintained his post at WBYQ until he determined was no hope for relief or survival, at which point he departed the fallout shielded station and succumbed to radiation poisoning.  According to his charge, an automated radio station system, his only expressed regret was being unable to see you before his death.  I’m sure this is not the news you were hopping for Ms. Wool but I feel it would be best if you were informed of the truth.  I express my deepest condolences for your loss, but Mr. Prescott’s service was in the highest tradition of the Civil Defense volunteers and we mourn his loss along with you.

Sincerely,



His Excl. Irvine K. Young
Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts

[NejinOniwa]

Oh my, how fascinating. -w-

I have to say, though: There is something system-wide in your writing that bothers me a nick. I can't put my finger on it, but there's a little itchy part that I just can't see somewhere in its midst. No large matter, but do pay attention. Otherwise - good job, as usual.



For my own part I seem to be recovering most ability at ordinary pace now - if functionality is restored before the weekend, I may have time to finish something in english as well before going on to the MR edit and Alpha phase finalization, and the subsequent Beta phase.
EDIT: Scratch this, I'll be working night shifts the entire weekend. Good pay, but well, I don't think I'll be up much for writing afterward...

[Chocofreak13]

poor nej.
and stewie, that was excellent. ^^ well worth the read. ^^

hmmph, you guys are all souper-douper writers and all i can ever come up with is crap and comiks (aka crap). *pout* =\

[stewartsage]

Oh my, well, if you figure out what it is tell me please ^^'

Well dang, hope you get some more time.  Being unemployed.... has it's perks?

Glad ya liked it.

Not so, my scope of writing is pretty narrow and not particularly well constructed.  Comics are good!

[Chocofreak13]

to be honest, i make the poltline up as i go along for comiks. .___.;

that's kinda bad xDDD

[NejinOniwa]

Well dang, hope you get some more time. Being unemployed.... has it's perks?

QFT.

[Bella]

Unix-tan fanfic part 2: http://bellacielo.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2sbz7y
Continuation of Isra's story: http://bellacielo.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2s5k8r
An OpenVMS-tan and Windows XP Pro-tan fanfic: http://bellacielo.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2tn4nq

[Aurora Borealis]

I'm especially curious about your latest fic, with XP and VMS.

Why was it that XP was kicked out of the family, and did the other Windows-tans older than her suffer the same fate? By that time, there'll probably be a Windows 9! --and maybe a beta of Windows 10--

And when narrating about how VMS outlived many of her peers because of her great adaptability, did that include many of her relatives that are alive now but not then?

Among the OS-tans, VMS is one of the luckier ones in terms of fate, being so adaptable for a proprietary OS. The only OS-tans with a better fate than her are the open source ones.

[Aurora Borealis]

Double-posting because otherwise my last post would get messy...

Finally got the inspiration to work on one of my proposed OS-tan stories, something I've wanted to do for the past 2 years but without success, discussing Xenix's backstory in the Annex Project thread inspired me to start this (2-years old) story idea.

I was torn between the decision of drawing it out as a comic, even though that would take longer, or just typing it out though that's something I'm new to. But wanting to finally get this story off the ground quickly, I started to put my writing skills to the test!

----Part 1:----

"Aug 1981: It's tragic that Altair-chan had to permanently leave the family, and I couldn't interfere. I'm also under orders not allowed to speak of her to the kids. I'm worried for her. She's 5 years my senior, and was influential, but when we met a year ago, her influence and popularity were already in decline. What will happen to her all alone?

Her record is less than perfect, but her contributions helped make this family possible, and I'm saddened she won't be able to see the family she contributed to grow, and that the kids will not know of her. Altair-chan is from another company, but I still consider her family and will not forget her."

Xenix wrote down in a book she called "Project Altair". Her blue hair was neatly styled to frame her face and decorated with a maid bonnet, she was also in uniform and ready to look after the kids, PC-DOS and MS-DOS, who were in the next room playing with some toys together, quietly.

All would seem well, but Xenix had a melancholy expression on her face, remembering her friend Altair, a very bittersweet series of thoughts and memories.

"Hey, Xenix-sama!" PC-DOS said as she entered Xenix's office. Its grim lighting, with dark curtains pulled over the window, and a gas lamp illuminating the desk area, this contrasting with the brightly-lit play room that she and MS-DOS had just left.

"Are you okay, Xenix-sama?" MS-DOS said, standing side-by-side with her twin sister, both with hair in pigtails and wearing matching frilly dresses and tiaras, with MS-DOS's outfit in black and white, PC-DOS's in blue and black.

Xenix closed the book she was writing, and turned to the DOS twins. "Oh... I'm okay. Just writing in my journal."

Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 12:02.

"Dangit!" Xenix said. "I was supposed to have lunch prepared by noon! This is what I get for spending too much time contemplating." She rushed out of the room and headed for the kitchen to cook.

MS-DOS and PC-DOS followed, curious about what their caregiver was writing and thinking in her office, but knew that it isn't nice to snoop around in other people's things.